


I Am Yours, You Are Mime

by zoeliza



Category: Adam Driver - Fandom, Mime-Adam, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adam Driver Smut, F/M, Funny Smut, It's Worth It I Promise, NSFW, One Shot, and mime-adam, and there's sex, i need jesus, idek what to tag this as, its just funny, mime-adam - Freeform, mimeitup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoeliza/pseuds/zoeliza
Summary: Adam comes home in his mime costume. Who knew mime makeup could be so hot?His purple helmeted warrior of love was thick and pulsing, a bead of man yogurt already apparent at the weeping tip. You breathed against him, the hot of your wanton breath causing his heat seeking moisture missile to twitch. Your tongue darted out to slide up the slit of his tuna torpedo, testing him.
Relationships: Adam Driver & Reader, Adam Driver/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	I Am Yours, You Are Mime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sammm005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammm005/gifts), [xLittleSolox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLittleSolox/gifts), [Queen_Yvette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Yvette/gifts), [Clawdzilla](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Clawdzilla).



> It is very important you view this image before reading this fic:  
> [Mime-Adam](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PHSHj7QCzz0wFHsEngNm3VIyxvatuhCQ7civdRO3ne8/edit)  
> This is Adam in Pippin and he inspired this fic 100% (as well as a religion but that's a whole different story...)  
> Also a huge thanks for [sammm005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammm005/pseuds/Sammm005) and Keiley for helping me come up with... names lol

You glanced at the clock with a frown.  
Adam, your loving yet perpetually tardy husband, was late again. You lay sprawled across your matress in a fresh-out-the-Victoria’s-Secret lingerie set, the seldom-made bed ready to be torn apart by your usual animalistic sex. Tonight was special, it had been his final dress rehearsal for the show Pippin and, though you had no idea what it was about, you were determined to be the most supportive wife on the planet.  
The door to your bedroom slammed open and you nearly jumped a mile in the air, right out of your knee socks. Adam stood in the door frame, filling it up with his huffing frame, sweat making the skin of his neck glisten and…  
Sporting a full face of mime makeup.  
You gaped at the white face paint, black lipstick drawing his plump lips into a sinister grin and eyebrows drawn high on his forehead in dramatic pointed arcs. You gulped, entirely unnerved because you were entirely _aroused._  
“I’m sorry, I know I’m late again but look I didn’t even have time to take off-” He was pointing to his face, to the meticulously applied mask but fell silent when you shushed him, sliding seductively to the end of the bed.  
“Stay in character for me, won’t you, now, you tree of a man.” Your voice dripped with a carnal desire and though he paused for a moment his eyes soon filled with lust and he made a gesture of a key locking his lips and tossing it away. You hummed happily.  
“Now undress for me and let’s see that trouser snake of yours trying oh so hard to get out.” You eyed the bulge in his jeans and he cocked a too-high eyebrow. He was usually the one giving orders in the bedroom. But not today.  
He started by unbuttoning his shirt, white face paint staining the black collar as he pulled the material off his rock hard shoulders. If they were a mineral they’d be metamorphic, the hardest of them all. The garment slid to the floor and he began working at the fly of his jeans. You gulped as he yanked them down his elephant thighs and the outline of his meat scepter strained at the thin material of his boxer shorts. He slipped one finger under the elastic of the waistband and paused. He brought a splayed hand to his mouth poised in an O. Then wagged his finger and crooked it in the universal sign for ‘come here’.  
Your pink canoe was practically soaking through your dainty lace undies. You needed to see his clam hammer and you needed to see it now. You dropped to the floor before your towering, dirty mime and crawled forward until the imprint of his sex pistol was right in your face. You looked up into his clown-like face, his black lips parted and you licked up his concealed long dong silver. He let out a hard moan.  
“Good mimes are quiet. Only good mimes get to cum.” You whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He gave an exaggerated nod and then you hooked your fingers around his boxers and yanked them to the floor. The schlong that jumped out before you was glorious as ever.  
His purple helmeted warrior of love was thick and pulsing, a bead of man yogurt already apparent at the weeping tip. You breathed against him, the hot of your wanton breath causing his heat seeking moisture missile to twitch. Your tongue darted out to slide up the slit of his tuna torpedo, testing him. He jerked but didn’t make a sound and your lips curled into a smile. Then, without warning, you took as much of his tan banana into your mouth as you could and he let out an erotic cry as he hit the back of your throat. However, you didn’t deny him movement, you just gave it to him painfully slow, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his seman slinger, rolling it around the rumpleforeskin and then sliding your lips back down to the base. Your sexy mimes head lolled back and his teeth grinded together, black lipstick staining his front chompers.  
He managed to contain the groans you felt rolling through his body so you rewarded him by increasing your pace, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking hard on his delicious slim jim, your chin hitting his family jewels when you took him deep into your throat. One of his large hands found the back of your head and he propelled you onto his throbbing cocktapus. Spit dribbed out of the corner of your mouth and you reached a hand up to roll his pork dumplings against your palm.  
Then he let out one of his signature animalistic groans and you forced your head back against his strong hands, the head of his bone ranger popping out of your lips as you looked up at him with a mock scowl.  
“Mimes don’t make sounds last time I checked.” You chidded. He seethed but played along and simply pointed to the well made bed. With a smirk you rose to your feet standing as tall as you could before him. He took a step toward you, ever intimidating even with that wicked black smile painted across his face. He towered over you, backing you into the room until the back of your knees hit your mattress and you fell back onto it. Slowly, he made an O with his fingers and somehow made the act of drawing a long lick over it look sexy. You knew what he was trying to convey.  
He fell to his knees between your parted thighs, hooking his large forearms under your legs and yanking you to him. He hovered at your lace covered cave of wonders, breathing in the scent of your juices which had thoroughly dampened the brand new garment. He nudged his painted nose against your sobbing taco and you gasped, head flying back onto the comforter. You moaned when you felt a long lick slide up your ham wallet, not unlike the one he’d mimed against his hand.  
Then he hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties and pulled them aside, wasting no time in planting a hot, wet kiss against your now exposed tampon tunnel. You gasped as he slurped and licked at the baby batter dripping from your furburger. You looked down at him to find his dark eyes watching you from under painted triangle brows.  
He chose this exact moment to plunge a callous digit into your banana basket and you yelped his name, eyes snapping shut. He pumped into you, tongue finding its way to your pulsing love nub and swirling it with skilled motion. You clenched your tight taco around him approaching your climax dangerously fast. Oh, the things that mime makeup did to you.  
He plunged another rough digit into your bone collector, curling them until they hit the spot that made you see stars. He gave a long rough suck at your squirt button and then…  
You cried out as he pulled away, wiping at your clam sauce on his chin under a devilish smirk as you were yanked away from the very edge of your orgasm. Then he mimed to you again.  
His left forefinger breaching the O he made with the thumb and pointer of his right hand. His painted face grinning behind the gesture.  
You moaned with newfound need. It’s like they said, a picture _was_ worth a thousand words.  
He stood, his womb raider in his fist as he pumped at himself, one knee falling to the mattress between your thighs. Your meat massager quaked, wanting nothing more than for this beautiful mime’s vagina miner to explore every crevice of your aching cavern. He rested one of his large hands next to your head on the bed, meeting your haughty gaze and aligned himself with your pink muffin.  
You moaned as he slid the tip of his pleasure pump along your meat curtains, your bonkjuices mixing in with an erotic squelch. He swirled his one-eyed trouser trout around your sensitive cuntnubbin, biting his black lip to hold in his straining groans and then without warning he plunged deep into your calamari cockring in one quick jerk.  
He gave you no time to adjust to the sheer ginormous size of his Dicktator, he simply pounded into you, face buried in the crook of your neck, hips snapping with an erratic lust to plunge himself impossibly deeper into your penis fly trap. You clawed at the rippling muscles of his back, moaning and gasping and shouting his name, not caring who heard. The bed crashed against the wall as his hips gyrated against your pelvis, his disco stick sending new waves of pleasure through your body as it circled in your cum dumpster.  
You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in, pulling him ever closer. His pumping became crazed as you felt him nearing his edge, his Jurassic Pork pulsing inside your penis parking lot, his yam bag smacking against your ass. You slithered a hand down between your sweaty, tangled bodies, your fingers finding your needy clitasaurus. You cried out as you thumbed quick circles against your jumping bean. Adam growled as in working yourself a digit skimmed his rock hard weapon of ass destruction. You didn’t scold him for making sound this time… you were both so close.  
And with a final triumphant thrust, he reached his climax with a deafening growl, his yogurt slinger twitching inside you as he filled you with cock nectar. It was all you needed to send you into your own exquisite orgasm, your penis pocket clenching around him, milking him of every last drop of ball custard.  
He collapsed on top of you and you ran a hand through his mess of inky black curls. He pulled back to look at you with a goofy grin.  
“Wow,” you noted, running a hand over the mime makeup. “This stuff didn’t budge a bit. At least we know you won’t sweat it off on stage.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Your life has been changed for the better.


End file.
